Morning journal and courier., 1887-08-13
THE GRANTS AT LONG BRANCH
Their Cottage Noted for Its Hosp1talt- ty-Mrs. Fred Grants Accomplish menfSs


 Their Cottage Noted for Hts Hosp1tali- ty-Mrs. Fred Grants Accomplish ments.
 [Long Branch Letter to the Chicago Times.I Mrs. General Grant has at all times
 house full of company. Just now Mrs.
 Judge Dent, Mrs. Corbin and Mrs. Cramer, sisters and sister-in-law respectively, are at
 the cottage. Friends come over the lawn from MT. Childs' cottage in sizes and sevens,
 and almost every evening low tea is served.
 Covers are placed for ten or dozen. The
 menu is made up of salads, berries, cream
 biscuits, ices and glaces, and the table deco rations consist ot flat basket of wild flow CTS, with crushed ice sprinkled over them. Mrs. Colonel Grant arranges the table and delights in having circular mass of lemon verbena mignonette ornamented with black, white, yellow and green butterflies loaned by the little Pullman boys, who, like the pensire Selkirk, are monarchs of all they survey. Mrs. Colonel Grant began this sum- mer to tighten her mourning and wears dainty guimps of mule and face with black
 dresses, straw eolored bonnets and lawn hats
 trimmed with pretty colored plumes Her fingers are jewelled like princess with clus
 ter rings of marvellous beauty-all diamonds,
 however-and whether in little neglige of muslin or tea gown of silk and precious loom she is as beautiful in face and as lovely in manner as poets ideal. Unlike the craze villa, one is never repulsed from the Grant cottage, and the tired vender of writlng-paper, the poor little woman with furniture polish and the ubiquitous sight seer is as politely received as the bidden guest. There is no more beautiful apart- ment in all the village than the sitting
 room at the end of the hall. It overlooks
 .E 1T door leading to the piazza stretches a
 boundlessness of sea and sky that fills one with emotions of reverence and awe.
 The floor is spread with a rich Persia rug, there are low sofas seemingly filled
 with silk pillows, every chair knows it's own comfort, and wherever the eye, turns there Is some print, marble, medallion, vase or bit of decorative art to charm the eye or fascinate the senses. On an antique cabinet filled with folios and sketches, with every jutting shelf ledge holding a bit of modelled beauty, is 8 bust in plaster of the brave old soldier. About it is folded the fragments of battle-fag, leaving only the face and head visible above the stars and stripes. Behind it hangs wreath of white immortelles-a widows first tribute to mem- ory-with circlet of white ribbon still clinging to it, typical of welded love. A slender glass filled with geraniums as bright as the stripes in the silken banner rests on one emu oL the oTapery, ana the fragrance or this simple offering is sweeter than the rich est incense that ever foated through cathe- dral or abbey. Every morning this tiny bouquet is gathered from the window boxes by the lonely wife, who kisses the blossoms and tenderly places them before the face of her hero. The faded flowers are dried and, mixed with their own fragrance, go to make those memory bags so highly prized by the friends on whom they are bestowed.
 Very often Colonel Fred Grant walks along the yellow sand at the foot of the cliff, his hands crossed on the back and his head bent in deep thought. Though still a young man, he looks careWorn and concerned. Much of the time he is lost in meditation, and as one studies the full, round, quiet face for traces untarily that the eyes of the dreamer must see through many scenes, some of them tragic I enough, before youth, with its sunny free | dom is reached